Casey sniffed. The coyly sweet smell of tobacco teased his nose. “I asked you not to smoke.”
“No one here to hide it from,” Javier replied.
“Immaterial. It will cling to your clothes and a sensitive nose will detect it.”
“By the time they smell my clothes, you’ll already have their face pressed to a tree with their hands behind their back or a gun to their head. I hear you did to that evader chick the other night. So again I ask, why does it matter?”
Because it smells horrid and I don’t want to breathe in your fumes?
Casey ignored the question. Responding honestly would gain him nothing and would negatively affect his careful balance with the most volatile on his team. That volatility the very reason why Javier was assigned to his squad in the first place. And the very reason he was paired with Casey on the rotation. No one else knew what to do with him and basic hadn’t beaten the fight out of him. So it was Casey’s job to try to shape him up.
After only a week, it seemed like a lost cause.
Casey spotted something on the floor of the decoy shelter and stepped closer.
Mud.
But not just any smear of mud. It was a track. A partial tread of a boot. Too big to be feminine. So a dodger of the other sort. He sniffed the air for an identifiable scent, something to track. He smelled nothing but the sweet odor of the burning tobacco leaves.
He stifled his sigh. “We have something to investigate,” he told Javier and pointed toward the print.
Javier leaned in and looked down at it. “Another dodger? This far out of town?” Javier laughed. “We can start up or own whorehouse. Call it Huxley’s. It could be as swank as the State-run brothels.”
Casey glanced at him. Javier was leaning against the corner of the building, the one open to the woods. “What would you know about places like that?”
“Only what I’ve read. Never been to one myself. But I think paying for a screw would be worth it, don’t you?”
“Right now? No,” Casey answered, and turned back to studying the partial footprint. “I have more important things to do.”
“Than fucking?” Javier asked, incredulous.
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe rounding up evaders is that high on your list.”
“It is. And as long as you are on my squad it will be your top priority also.” Casey struggled to keep his tone neutral.
Javier continued as if Casey hadn’t just rebuked him. “It’s annoying we’re not s’posed to have relations with the enlisted until they are thirty and out of the program.”
“You know why. It is explained in the field manuals.” Casey stood and hopped off of the structure. He scanned the ground for indications of passage. The man took refuge in the shelter, most likely during the same storms as when they captured the girl. He was probably long gone, but Casey needed to make an attempt to find him in any case. If he was young enough, he’d be sent back to St. Louis for his mandatory service. And if he was too old, then Casey needed to make sure he didn’t pose a threat to his camp.
“Sterile and controlled environment for the treatments,” Javier huffed. “I hear a few get pregnant the natural way after their enlistment is over. They get shipped off to medical labs upstate. Kids still end up in the communals, though.” Javier paused. “Makes you wonder—don’t it—if they all got fucked the right way, would they get pregnant more often?”
Casey grunted in response. He was already tired of this conversation. Nobody had sex until after thirty—well the few who paid for it did—and every baby ended up in the communal homes. It was the only way to be fair to everyone else.
“I wonder what you have to do to get on the donor list for the treatments.”
“Prove yourself,” Casey answered distracted. He found some tracks.
“How do you prove yourself?”
“Not get transferred to four different military branches due to misbehavior, for starters.”
Javier laughed.
“I am serious.”
“I know. That’s why it’s so funny. You’re the perfect Staff Sergeant aren't you,” Javier responded. “You do everything the brass tells you to, without fail. I bet you don’t even notice the piece of ass in your tent. I know half the guys had to fist it after you sent her to your bed for lights out.”
“That’s enough,” Casey said and looked at him pointedly. He didn’t like the direction of the conversation.
“Hit a nerve huh. Didn’t get a chance to blow a load before you crawled in with her?” Javier chuckled and quirked an eyebrow. “I bet you could get away with using her too. She’s in your tent, already pregnant, no one would notice if you touched her, and if they did, ain’t no one going to report on the perfect Huxley.”
Lincoln would. Casey shook his head, more to dispel the thoughts than to negate Javier’s words, but he wouldn’t tell him that. “She deserves our respect for doing her duty for the country, even if she ran.”
“Respect? She could serve under her country—if you know what I mean.”
Yep, he’s a lost cause. Casey thought with disgust. “You have just as much experience as the rest of us when it comes to carnal matters. So I suggest you quit daydreaming about being nestled between some thighs and start focusing on your job.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, sarge.”
“It’s no wonder you were shipped to me, with that attitude. Numbers don’t mean a thing if you can’t keep your mouth in line.”
“Set me up with a nest and a long range scoped rifle and I can take out your evaders. No problem. Doesn’t mean I know how to track ‘em. Or keep ‘em alive,” Javier retorted. “My job was to pick off border jumpers, not rescue ‘em.”
“Well rescuing and detaining’s your job now, and I expect you to give it your full concentration.”
“It’d be easier if I could sc—”
Casey cut him off. “I’m sure it would, but that isn’t the situation and talking about it won’t change that fact. So, if you’re not going to help me track, the least you can do is be quiet while I do the work.”
“Will do,” Javier smiled and dragged hits thumb and forefinger across his lips as if zipping them closed.
Casey turned away and scanned the ground. He didn’t want Javier to see him grit his teeth in frustration. He’d been warned in Javier’s deployment papers that he liked to press, pushing for weaknesses in leadership. Casey assumed this was just his natural desire to see how far he could go before Casey lost his control. Well, today wouldn’t be the day that Javier succeeded.
“This print is headed north, but that isn’t a guarantee of direction,” Casey instructed. “You look over there for tracks and I’ll follow these. If you don’t see anything in a fifty-foot perimeter check, head north after me.”
Javier nodded. His business-like demeanor a stark contrast to his humor of a few minutes before. He turned and began a methodical examination of the ground as Casey instructed.
Casey shook his head. Maybe Javier wasn’t as bad as his paperwork implied. He would withhold judgment. It was only a week after all. How much could you know about a man in that amount of time?
He scanned his surroundings and started walking in the direction of the tracks. It didn’t take long for Javier to catch up with him. His arrival wasn’t a surprise. There were too many footprints in the dirt for Casey to not be following the correct set of prints.
Javier inclined his head in acknowledgment and signed the equivalent of, Concerned?
No, Casey replied.
Casey scanned the ground for more prints.
There. Dirt. Boulder. Climbed? Javier asked.
No. Decoy. Direction. Wrong.
With careful steps, they followed the sparse trail left behind by the individual. Casey estimated they’d traveled a half mile when Javier pointed at another depression on the ground.
It was a full boot indentation.
Casey spread his fingers and measured them against the tread. He guessed the man to be six feet tall, and not carrying much weight. The sole’s pattern from the boot had pressed deep into the rain-softened soil, and Casey concluded that the man either didn’t care that someone could track him, or he was too stupid to know better. If it was the former, he would need to be careful when they found him.
One consolation to this expedition was that the man had no interest in Casey’s camp. The prints were too far north and east to be a concern, and each new track they found led them farther away from base. Traveling even another mile wasn’t worth it for a male. The man was already out of range for Casey’s usual patrols.
No further, Casey signed to Javier.
Yes, Javier replied. Wait.
Casey stopped and listened. What was that rustling noise?
He turned slowly, with his ear toward the sound. Eventually, he spotted the paper fluttering just above his head. It was impaled by a small branch of the tree. Casey strode forward and tugged it off the branch and he read the words.
You missed me! Noah
“Damn!” The man was toying with them. Casey shoved the note into his pocket. He would ponder it later. “Let’s check out shelter six.”
“Lead the way.”
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